


Affect[ion]

by Voido



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Fluff, Lance is a fool, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining, Season 6 Canon Divergent, everyone knows this, keith is biased, not for raisin, they're both idiots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-17
Updated: 2019-01-17
Packaged: 2019-10-11 10:28:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17445176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Voido/pseuds/Voido
Summary: For the record: Lance wasn’t, in any kind of way, affiliated with Keith differently from everyone else, except for this whole rivalry thing. They were all a group of unlikely friends who did their best in order not to die while trying to save the universe.Or: Everyone and their grandma knows that Keith is biased when it comes to Lance, except for Lance himself, who heavily denies it.When he finally sees a chance to prove them all wrong, though, he ends up learning that sometimes, you simply can't deny the truth.





	Affect[ion]

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Silvamoon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silvamoon/gifts).



> _Based on the fact that Keith canonically grew more and more unable to say no to Lance over the course of the seasons. "The wolf's with me." Heh, yeah, unless Lance totally disagrees and asks you to take care of his cow instead, huh, Keith? HUH????!!! Anyway, this thing is kinda carefree, and canon-divergently(!) takes place somewhere in early S6. I also deny the existence of "clone"-Shiro in this fic. Nope. It's the real dude here._

It was a miracle for him to even think the words, but that morning—which should be a very regular day, except it _totally wasn’t_ —Lance found himself confronted with the fact that he could not, for the love of anything in the world, stand to hear his own name being called out even one single more time, or he would officially go insane.

Now, he was very well aware of how loaded that statement was, but that made it no less true. He’d always loved attention; the bliss of knowing that people’s eyes were on him, that he was the center of everyone’s focus. He’d taken theater classes and even sung in the choir in high school—relatively well, too, if he was poised enough to admit it—so people talking to and _about_ him should be a perfectly common, desirable thing for him.

And it had been. Really. But lately, it was all getting out of control.

The problem, he supposed, wasn’t the fact that people were reaching out to him; he still appreciated that a lot whenever it happened. It made him feel relevant, like he mattered, something that he, with how many siblings he had, had always craved and most likely always would.

These days, though, whenever he heard his name, it wasn’t long until it was followed by another one, in a way that made Lance frown and then roll his eyes in annoyance, right before thinking: _Why me?_ And the worst part was how persistent people could be, even if he told them no.

“Lance, can you do me a favor?”

While part of him wanted to shake his head and be done with it, curiosity won over. What kind of ridiculous request could it be this time? Lately, Pidge especially had come up with the most random things, and sometimes Lance wondered if she only asked these favors of him to get under his skin.

“I need some combat data for a simulation.”

He almost got his hopes up there, but then—

“Keith says he’s busy with some book, though, and refuses to help. I was thinking, maybe if you asked him…”

It was always, _always_ the same, honestly. No matter how many times he explained that, if Keith was busy with _some book_ if Pidge asked him, he would also be busy with the exact same book if _Lance_ asked him, she simply refused to ever give up, even when Lance explained that very fact to her.

“And...what exactly makes you believe that he suddenly won’t like the book anymore if it’s my voice that asks him?”

She didn’t answer, instead only raised an eyebrow, closed her eyes as if praying for the lord to send her a dose of patience, and sighed heavily.

“Lance, how many times must I explain this to you? It makes a difference.”

“It really doesn’t. You just want him to get angry at me instead of you.”

And with that, he ended the discussion, waved at her and left before she could continue bugging him with her request. Pidge was great, most of the time, and he really appreciated her as a friend and as their team’s genius, but sometimes, nothing she said made any sense at all. If it were only her, though, Lance figured that it wouldn’t bother him too much—Pidge’s brain probably worked in other ways than those of mere, measly humans like himself, so he would forgive her. For some reason, though, she _wasn’t_ the only one who bothered him with these kinds of requests, and every single time they were about Keith.

For the record: Lance wasn’t, in any kind of way, affiliated with Keith differently from everyone else, except for this whole rivalry thing. They were all a group of unlikely friends who did their best in order not to die while trying to save the universe. In fact, the person who knew Keith better than the rest of them was _Shiro_ , who’d taken care of Keith years before all of this had happened. At first, Lance had thought that maybe Shiro was getting bothered with these awkward requests, too, but no, he had actually _done the same thing as Pidge_ and asked Lance for a favor regarding Keith.

It was absolutely _insane_ , enough so that Lance wondered how he’d even managed to refuse every single time someone asked him to do something. He’d always fled quickly when Pidge asked him to ask Keith to the training deck, he’d found an excuse every time Hunk wanted him to bring Keith to the kitchen _for science_ , or when Allura said she had genuine questions about Keith’s bloodline, or, or, or.

Lance was so tired of it.

Too tired, he told himself as he was confronted with the guy himself, leader of Voltron, paladin of the black lion, Mulletman Keith, sitting on the comfortable sofa in the lounge, reading the book Pidge had mentioned, feeding his huge cosmic wolf some sort of alien dog treats, smiling fondly, like a parent probably would at their child, blissfully unaware of the torture that his own right-hand man, second in command and paladin of the red lion was currently going through.

“You look like you’re having fun,” Lance commented and sat down next to Keith, watching him pet the wolf.

“It’s a well-deserved break, I think. We’ve been through a lot lately.”

“Yeah, tell me about it.”

Lance considered asking Keith about this whole ordeal, although he wasn’t sure of how much use that would be. Why would Keith know why everyone else was acting so strangely? Why would he be able to explain why everyone seemed to think that Lance had supernatural, magical powers that could convince people to suddenly change their mind about things for no reason?

“What’s bothering you?” Keith asked, an eyebrow raised and concern visible on his face. Although he’d grown older due to his two years on a gigantic space whale, he somehow looked softer, _kinder_ even. Lance remembered him as a temperamental hot-head, someone he’d always love to pick a fight with, but now he enjoyed the peace between them, the fact that they could quietly spend this moment of rest together, not thinking about enemy warships for at least a few hours.

“Eh, nothing big,” Lance explained then, deciding against telling Keith about their team’s awkward behavior. There was no point in bothering him with such nonsense, especially considering that they were all probably just mocking Lance with it. Maybe they thought he still cared much about his former rivalry with Keith, which he didn’t, for the record—competing with him was still fun, but it had grown into something between friends instead of enemies, so there were no hard feelings attached to it.

At least Lance felt that way.

“Something small then? Tell me.”

Keith’s voice was teasing, yet playful, and his smile turned into a cocky grin that immediately fueled Lance’s sense of competition. Somehow, it was so incredibly easy for Keith to get him fired up about something, even if there currently wasn’t even anything worth such eagerness.

He didn’t know why he decided on it, but Lance thought about Pidge’s words, and realized that he could simply settle this whole ordeal by _proving her wrong_ , by showing that Keith would shake his head and return to his book even if _he_ asked him to the training deck.

 _You’re a genius_ , Lance told himself, but hid the huge, poised grin that tried to climb up to his lips. He needed to be professional about this, of course. If he laughed, it wouldn’t be much of a surprise if Keith declined the request.

“Just wondering. Feel like I’m getting rusty in physical combat, so I was going to ask if you want to train a bit. Seeing you’re busy, though…”

“It’s fine.”

Surprised by those words, Lance blinked twice.

“What?”

“The book isn’t running away, is it now?” Keith teased and swung the object around a bit. “I’m down to training, if you want.”

 _What_.

Obviously, Lance hadn’t expected that kind of answer, especially after explaining to Pidge that Keith would definitely decline the request, no matter who asked him. But this wasn’t the time to panic, not yet, because there was still a very simple explanation for this.

Training together was entirely different from training on one’s own for Pidge to collect combat data. That was the reason Keith suddenly agreed while he’d refused earlier; simple as that.

“Oh, err, cool?”

Lance cleared his throat and put on the best, most arrogant smile he could muster, and got to his feet quickly, because suddenly, he was extremely agitated.

“Meet you on the training deck in...ten minutes?”

“Make it five. Or are you too slow for that, sharpshooter?”

If anyone were to call him out on nervously gulping right there, Lance would’ve aggressively denied it.

* * *

“It’s for science, Lance, you literally _have to_ help me.”

He groaned, rolled his eyes and ran both hands over his face. This again. He didn’t know why Hunk was so keen on having Keith taste all kinds of space food, but apparently it was now an unspoken consensus that their half-alien team member was also the one who had to try every single alien food that they came across.

Sometimes, Lance honestly wondered how Keith was even still alive.

“What difference does it make if I ask him, Hunk? The sound of my voice won’t suddenly make him hungry, you know?”

“Well, if you’re convinced it doesn’t matter, then you can just do it for me, right? This once? Come on, do your best bro this one favor.”

That was cheating in the dirtiest way, and Lance swore to himself that he would make Hunk pay for that by blackmailing with equal methods sometime soon, but for now, he couldn’t do much other than agree. After the failed attempt to prove Pidge wrong—which she had only reacted to with a very smug smile—Lance felt the desperate need to make sure that nothing similar happened ever again. It had been a one-time coincidence, him convincing Keith to put down his book after he’d told Pidge that he needed to read it. Surely it wouldn’t happen again.

Surely, if Lance showed up in front of Keith’s room after he’d explained that he was going to continue on with his book in peace, denying Hunk the request to play food tester, the reply would stay the same: _I’m not hungry, but thanks for the offer_.

This time, Lance would prove his point, and then he would finally be free. He knew it!

Except everything went downhill from the literal moment on where he knocked on Keith’s door, said that it was him and was allowed to come inside. Keith was, in fact, reading the book, cross-legged on the bed with the wolf curled up next to him, and Lance almost found himself commenting on how domestic and adorable the scenery looked, but stopped himself in the very last second. He wasn’t here to compliment Keith or say nice words, he was here to show everyone that they were wrong.

They _had_ to be wrong.

Yet of course Keith was a huge traitor, because he put the book the the side and tilted his head with a thin smile, running a hand through his wolf’s fur and otherwise giving Lance his full attention.

“Are you alright? Anything you need?”

Well, there were a lot of things that Lance needed, for example for people to stop asking bullshit favors of him, or for Keith to stop playing into their hands like either an idiot or a madman or both, but instead decided on getting this over with as quickly as possible.

“Well, ugh, you see…”

“Spill it.”

The words were rather brute, but Keith’s tone was soft when he said them, and this time, Lance knew in advance that he was going to lose the goddamn bet with Hunk that he totally wouldn’t get Keith to join them in the kitchen, and it made him so, _so_ angry he couldn’t describe it.

New theory: Everyone was included in this stupid joke, even Keith, and they’d all made it their life-long mission to effectively drive Lance nuts. Honestly, so far they were doing splendidly at that.

“Hunk is making me go through his newest weird food creation, and I’m pretty sure I’m allergic to some of that stuff, and now he’s pouty and I could need some backup.”

_Please say no, please say no, please, Keith, for the love of anything that is even remotely holy in this god-forsaken world, PLEASE SAY NO._

“Oh. Sure, why not?”

_Damn you, Keith._

“C-cool. Take your time, no rush, not at all! I-It won’t run away or anything, haha!”

And with that, Lance turned around, cursed Keith, Hunk, Pidge, the rest of the ship, the rest of the universe and, first and foremost, himself, because this entire ordeal was getting ridiculous, and at this point he wasn’t even sure whom he was supposed to blame anymore.

“I’ll come with you.”

_Damn. You. Keith._

* * *

For the record: Lance didn’t write a diary on the space whale, simply because. If he were to ever start one, though, he would officially list Hunk and Pidge as _down the drain_ on his friend list as of now, because they were both rude as shit and didn’t deserve his gracious attention in the slightest.

So much for that.

He could totally, effortlessly, easily live with that.

…

Yeah, no, he couldn’t.

Either way, with them mentally marked down as traitors, he was kinda mopey, lately, which was contradictory to his joy about being able to challenge Keith to the weirdest kind of things and always getting the answer “sure, why not?”

Because the thing was, no matter how much it pissed Lance off that Pidge and Hunk couldn’t go three minutes without smirking at him in their weird _told you so_ kind of way, he still somehow liked the outcome of their stupid requests. He still wasn’t sure if Keith was part of this joke—he probably was, just to get the best out of Lance when he expected it least—but whatever they did, be it training, testing weird foods or just hanging out together, it was a lot of fun.

“Lance, do you have a moment?”

All his instincts screamed at him to say no, salute apologetically, turn on his heel and run, but Shiro already had him pinned down with that ridiculously polite smile of his, like a parent or a big brother would look at someone they’re proud of, and even though they were all friends and had been for a good while now, part of Lance would probably always be a huge Takashi Shirogane fanboy, so _of course_ he didn’t even hesitate before nodding quickly and returning the smile.

 _Damn you, Lance_ , he thought to himself, resisting the urge to roll his eyes.

“What is it?”

As if he didn’t already know what it was.

“I’ve been meaning to get Keith out of his re-isolated behavior and spend more time with the team, but he seems to refuse whenever I even try to bring it up.”

“Maybe he just wants a moment to breathe? After, like, two years on a gigantic space whale where he and his mother constantly almost died?”

“I thought so, too,” Shiro agreed softly. “But he seems to be a lot more invested if you ask him about things.”

 _Oh great._ This again. And the worst part was that at this point, Lance couldn’t even deny it anymore, because it was simply true. No matter what the question, no matter how reluctantly he asked or looked while bringing it up, Keith would never fail to put whatever thing he was busy with to the side, get up, smile and agree on it.

If this was a huge joke everyone was involved in, then that was rude on one hand, but admittedly executed with honorable dedication. Being the butt of something like this didn’t really give him the best vibes, but hey, _third time lucky_ , as they said, so maybe Keith would finally say no if Lance asked him on behalf of Shiro instead of Pidge or Hunk.

No, Lance didn’t really believe that either.

“Fine, I’ll try. Can’t promise he’ll want to have a sleepover party with everyone all out of sudden, though.”

“I doubt a sleepover party is necessary anyway.”

Lance opened his mouth and raised a finger to object—sleepover parties were a valuable part of life experience, and he had a strong, positive opinion about their impact on friendships, but he knew that if he started rambling about that, he wouldn’t stop for the next hour or two, so he held it back.

They really needed to do a sleepover, though.

“Yeah, I guess. Anyway, I’ll do my very best.” By which he meant _I’ll do my absolute barest minimum and I hate that it will probably work_. “Later, Shiro.”

“Later, Lance. Have fun.”

 _Have fun_.

What the hell was that even supposed to mean?

* * *

 

He found Keith after twenty minutes or so, not in his room or the library or the training deck, as expected, but instead in the kitchen, slurping one of his favorite, ridiculously sweet, oddly colored soft drinks, watching something on a tablet; probably busy trying to learn a language or something about a planet they were to encounter soon.

Either way, he looked up when Lance entered the room, tip of his straw resting against his lips, making him look a bit ridiculous and a whole lot _cute_. Lance shook his head a bit too aggressively at the thought.

 _Reel back. Reel the_ hell _back!_

“Hey, Lance.”

“Uh, hi.”

He made his way over to where Keith was sitting and plopped down on the chair right next to him, pretending to be the most casual person about everything in the world, but when Keith put the tablet to the side, sat his drink down and turned in his chair so they were facing each other, a smile resting on his lips, it looked so genuine and nice that Lance wondered what he’d done in his life to be stared at like this.

He did...perhaps...like it, though. Just a little! Just in an _I like being smiled at_ kind of way, and totally not because he was infatuated with it, with the way the corners of Keith’s lips curled up, and the way his brows drew close to his eyes, and the way the smile played around his whole features, including his high cheekbones, and the way he instinctively reached for his hair to get it out of his goddamn beautiful face.

Nuh-uh. Totally not at all.

“Is something the matter?”

Lance resisted the urge to nod aggressively. What was he supposed to say? _Our friends really have this weird thing going where they set me up to make you do things, and worst of all, it’s working. Are you, mayhaps, part of this not-very-funny joke?_ Yeah, no. Not going to happen.

“No, I mean...nothing important. Just, uh…”

Maybe he should’ve come up with something to say before his arrival, but too late now.

“You’ve been acting weird lately.”

“Wha—”

He almost fell out of his seat, that’s how hard he jumped up at the words in absolute shock.

“I haven’t?”

“Have, too.”

“Keith, for the love of God,” Lance tried while rolling his eyes. “Do I gotta pull it out of your nose or something? Explain maybe?”

Instead, Keith turned away and reached for his soft drink, a poised smile resting on his lips. Sometimes, he was such a rude tease, and he visibly _knew_ that it was driving Lance insane, which seemed to be the best part about it.

“Ugh, not then. Fine, thanks for the talk.”

Lance dramatically got up to leave. Maybe Keith _was_ in on this thing after all, a big, rude prank to get on Lance’s nerves. He was sick of it, though. Hadn’t he humored them enough by now? To his surprise, though, he didn’t get far. Before he even reached the door, he was held back by the wrist, and reluctantly turned around to meet Keith’s eyes.

“Sorry.” He was grinning, but trying to hide it. Lance scowled at it and pouted, not convinced of the sincerity of the apology. “I mean it, though. How many times did you track me down these days, only to be unsure of what to say when you finally find me? It’s like someone’s forcing you—Oh.”

Forcing was, perhaps, a little too strong a word for it, but generally, the term still kind of fit, considering how persistent their friends had been. Lance decided to put an end to this charade, even if it were to end with his utter embarrassment.

“It’s damn hard to explain,” he began and looked away, noticing the heat shooting up to his face. Why was this so humiliating? “Everyone seems to think I’m their legman or something. _You go ask Keith this, you go ask him that, he’ll say yes._ And then I try to prove them wrong, because fools they are, but of course you have to ruin it all and actually agree—”

“What—”

“You’re in this, aren’t you?! This is some sorta big, fat joke at Lanceylance’s expense. Right? Right. Okay, fun’s over, I’ve had it. Spill the beans, what did I do to be the butt of this amazing gag?”

But Keith didn’t spill anything, not even when Lance forced himself to look him dead in the eyes, expecting an answer. Keith seemed no less surprised than he was, but it could be a facade.

“What...are you talking about?”

“Wait, so…you’re not in this?”

Well, this was a little awkward now. In Lance’s defense though, it had totally made sense. Everyone had been ganging up on him, making him ask the dumbest things of Keith, and Keith had, without fail, agreed to them. How was anyone supposed to think that it was anything _but_ a prank?

Now this revelation raised another question, though: If Keith was, in fact, not part of this whole thing, then why had he still agreed to do all the things Lance had asked him to do, even after refusing the exact same thing when someone else had asked? It didn’t add up!

“So, you’re...not agreeing on all the stuff I ask of you to make fun of me?”

Keith frowned, then raised an eyebrow and tilted his head slightly.

“That...doesn’t even make sense.”

“You don’t make sense! All you had to do was say _no_ when I asked you to train with me on Pidge’s command, after turning her request down before. But no, you had to agree!”

That _finally_ seemed to ring _some_ sort of bell, because Keith’s eyes widened, and he had the decency to look a little embarrassed, too. He didn’t, however, explain anything still, so Lance rambled on.

“Or the multiple times Hunk sent me because you’d refused to play food tester for him? Couldn’t have said _no_ to me even if your life depended on it, huh? Now who doesn’t make sense, Keith?!”

Somehow, he was shouting dramatically, although he wasn’t sure if he was mad or simply exhausted, tired of all of this and how little sense anything made.

“I...well. I don’t know what I’m supposed to say.”

 _Anything_ would probably work at this point, but an explanation would be the icing on the cake. A simple one-liner, something like _‘got you. I’m in this joke after all_ ’ or maybe _‘it’s fun seeing you choke to death because of your allergies_ or even _‘I didn’t notice that. Sorry. Have a nice day._ ’

“Truth would be cool, man.”

“But you know the truth already.”

Uh, no?

All Lance knew was that if they didn’t settle this within the next minutes or something, Pidge or Hunk or Shiro would butt in on them and give him this look, the look of triumph, the look of _we told you and you can’t deny we were right_.

“Ain’t got a clue what you mean.”

And then Keith, goddamn samurai, Mulletman before the lord, leader and Lance-proclaimed rival, had the god-forsaken audacity to chuckle, let it fade into a smile and pull Lance closer by the wrist and into a hug, leaning their cheeks together comfortably.

“You just said it,” Keith finally explained, an amused, yet flattered tone to his voice. “I couldn’t say no to you if my life depended on it.”

With that, he let go, a shade of red now visible on his cheeks, still smiling, and turned around to continue doing whatever he’d been busy with before Lance had entered the room, pretending that nothing of relevance had just happened.

Lance himself, in the meanwhile, was busy _imploding_ with the amount of newfound information raining down on him. First of all, Keith legitimately blushing, with a smile on his face? Cute? Like, _way too_ cute? Literally so cute that he didn’t even bother deny it anymore? Second of all, Keith casually affirming Lance’s accusation that he’d just made up on the spot? Undoubtedly a critical hit, maybe not in Killbot Phantasm II, mind you, but definitely to Lance’s weak, super-smitten heart.

“Y-you think you’re super slick, don’t you?!” he shouted way too loudly, but didn’t care. Keith looked up from his whatever-he-was-doing on the tablet, straw yet again resting against his lips, and it still looked adorable and it wasn’t fair and Lance totally, entirely wanted to punch that confident smile out of Keith’s face. Punch as in, you know, smack his fist right into it...or maybe substitute fist with his own face, but he wouldn’t say that out loud, ever.

“Maybe I do,” Keith replied then. “Wanna find out?”

Oh, he was _on_ and totally _in_ for a fight, and not a merciful one, because Lance charged, knocked a very surprised Keith out of his chair, probably broke a combined three of their ribs, and loudly declared _war_.

“You’re so gonna regret this!”

When they were found by their team due to how loudly they’d been shouting and laughing, Lance knew that he was in for a whole lot more of _‘I told you so_ ’s and _‘admit that I was right_ ’s, but honestly?

He couldn’t even mind any less.


End file.
